Derrick’s organs were much smaller than that of a typical male of his age and size, yet they were normal for a vampire. Nonetheless, his heart remained within the ten-and-a-half-ounce range. It had not grown in size, as his arteries and veins had. Once the DNA had transformed, his organs would follow suit. His DNA changed, but his heart did not. Something was not right.

“That’s odd,” Raven remarked to herself, looking through the oculars of the electron microscope.

“What is?” Tracy asked as she entered with the two samples of frozen red blood cells Raven had asked her to retrieve, along with the written report of Derrick’s blood work-up. What was left of his blood, which wasn’t much, filled a small vial.

“His red cells have an odd feature, a spaghetti-like shape, which may explain why his heart didn’t enlarge.” Raven took the reports from Tracy and skimmed them. She noted high titers of anti-factor VIII autoantibodies. “He would have bled out at the slightest cut.”

Tracy appeared as perplexed as Raven. “A Lamai who had a bleeding disorder? Now that’s a new one for the journals. Was it pre-existing?”

Raven scratched her head in frustration. “It wouldn’t matter. Once he went through the transformation, he wouldn’t be affected by any immunodeficiency conditions he may have suffered from previously. This has to be purposeful.”

Tracy sighed. “You’re losing me.” Tracy sat next to her, reading the report.

“Either his blood was altered, or whoever turned Derrick somehow made it so that his factor VIII remained elevated… or altered.” Raven shook her head in horror, her eyes widening. She recognized this odd feature in the blood cells, but couldn’t remember where she’d seen it before.

“Whoever is responsible has to have a medical background,” Tracy added, looking at the sample sitting on the scope. “This is the sample of your blood?”

“Yes, taken last year. I also have a sample of Victor’s, Solaris’s head of security, and a fresh sample of my own blood.”

“There’s a severe cellular modification to the victim’s platelets-different from what would be expected in the average change from human to Lamai, if you can cite an average. Both your platelets and Victor’s are dissimilar to those of the victim.” Tracy spun around in her chair, facing Raven. “Have you ever encountered anything like this before?”

Raven looked up at her friend. “No. Never.”

“It looks like the cells have been modified. There was a change beginning to take place in the DNA and RNA. Something was brewing in his blood. Where would we possibly start testing?” Tracy asked. She seemed to be trying to figure out how much blood remained, and if they could even perform the proper testing.

Raven crossed her arms over her chest and exhaled a deep, frustrated sigh. “We can’t rule out molecular changes on the quantum level.” Raven watched for her red-haired assistant’s reaction.

“Magick,” they said in chorus.

“Or something more sinister,” Raven whispered.

In the evening, approaching the dinner hour, she’d received the news. Raven had just hung up the kitchen phone after a conversation with an old colleague from San Francisco. It was the call she’d been waiting for all day. She had suspicions about Derrick’s blood samples and wanted to talk them over with her friend from college. She was worried about what was occurring on the island, and had a dreadful feeling about that night’s festivities. The beginning of the Harvest Fair.

She was trying to digest the information she’d just received when she felt a presence.

A familiar presence.

“I hear you and Bo are back together again.” The unexpected though recognizable sound of his voice caused Raven to break from her morbid thoughts. She felt the color drain from her face as she whirled to face the man in her kitchen. His silver eyes gauged her reply.

“Tobias.”

“How are you, Raven?” He reached out to her with open arms. She wanted to move, but felt rooted to the floor. In one step, he stood in front of her, wrapping his arms around her. “You look beautiful, as always.”

“Thank you. What brings you to the island? It’s been about-what, a year?-since I last saw you. Where have you been?” She desperately tried to hide the hurt that seeped into her voice. She couldn’t quite pull it off.

Nearly exhausted from the grueling day, she grabbed some vegetables and began vigorously chopping them. Preparing for an early dinner, she tried to act as if his presence didn’t affect her. She couldn’t pull that off, either.

He smiled. “I’m here to see you, of course, and to join in the festivities. The first of the Nights of the Parades is this evening, is it not?”

“Of course, yes, the harvest parades,” Raven said, absentmindedly nicking her finger with the blade as she tried to slice the fresh carrots from Nigella’s farm. She shoved her finger in her mouth.

“Careful, dulciuri inimă,” her father said, taking a seat on a stool at the center island, watching her slice and dice.

Raven eyed him cautiously. He looked like he wanted something.

Tobias was handsome as always. She definitely saw what had drawn her mother to him. Raven resembled Tobias in appearance. His hair was shoulder length and dark as the raven’s wing. That was how she’d received her name. After seeing a mop of jet-colored hair on his newborn daughter’s head, Tobias asked her mother if she liked the name Raven. Raven’s mother never denied anything to Tobias.

His eyes were the same smoky grey. He sported a neatly trimmed Van Dyke, giving him a distinguished and regal demeanor-or satanic, depending on one’s point of view. The genetic connection between Raven and Tobias was undeniable.

“Frank called you, didn’t he?” she asked, sliding a pitcher of raspberry iced tea toward him. She took two slices of lemon and sugar cubes and poured them both a drink. She needed one, her mouth suddenly parched. Seeing her father always made her anxious.

“I speak with Frank often,” he said, sipping the sweetened tea.

“Why don’t you just call me?” She stared at him with the same hard gaze she’d received from him so many times. Their relationship was a tug-of-war at best. When she needed to be close to her father, he was absent. When he was ready for her, she was too hurt and erected a wall of protection.

He stroked his beard. “I don’t want to be an overbearing father.”

She tried to stifle the laugh that erupted, but failed miserably. “You needn’t worry about that, Tobias.”

“Would you like a fire?” He didn’t wait for a response as he grabbed a few logs from the ring next to the fireplace. In an instant, he had a fire blazing.

He walked over to her. “Dulciuri inimă, your finger is still bleeding. When did you last have anything decent to feast upon?”

Speaking in the manner of a medieval king, he peppered his speech with the language of his native Romania, where he grew up so many hundreds of years ago. He’d always called her “sweetheart” when she was a little girl and continued to do so even though she was a grown woman.

“You sound like Nigella’s mother now. She’s always trying to feed me,” Raven said, walking to the sink and rinsing her finger. The next thing she knew, Tobias was standing next to her, holding her hand up to his mouth. He kissed his daughter’s cut.

“Nigella’s mother feeds you blood?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

“No, Nigella does, on occasion.” She looked down at her finger. It had healed. “And no, I don’t feed on my friend, if that’s your next question.”

He returned to his seat. “I know. I have been to a few ceremonies in the past, or have you forgotten? I remember the ritual and the blood. You have good friends. It was a wise decision to move here. That would make two good decisions I’ve made in my life, finding and marrying your mother being the first.”